


And He's Alright With That

by MyakuPrince



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, I just love these two and their weird relationship, M/M, Roadhog centric, Suggestive Themes, but nothing explicit, this is kind of fluffy I don't even know what I'm doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8929906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyakuPrince/pseuds/MyakuPrince
Summary: Mako Rutledge was dead, and some days, Roadhog didn’t know how he felt about that.





	

By their standards, it was a fairly uneventful day. Junkrat had been prattling on for weeks about about wanting to see this rock he had heard about from some scrap traders, and even though it was hundreds of kilometers away, once Junkrat got an idea in that twisted head of his there was no way to talk him out of it. So, not wanting to put the distance on his bike, they jacked a car from a nearby city and set off to fulfill the Rat’s silly little whim.

 

They took a rest stop somewhere south of Fuck-Ass Nowhere, and as Roadhog cracked open a beer, Junkrat continued to blather about this rock that they simple  _ had _ to see, because it looked like a  _ wave _ , and Roadhog resisted the urge to tell the little freak that they had been 30 minutes away from  _ real _ waves in the opposite direction before they had started this crazy trip. Really, though, he didn’t mind—it wasn’t like they had a whole lot of others things to do—and on some level, he thought it was kind of endearing that the deranged little fucker could get so excited over something as stupid as a rock.

 

Back in the day, when he was that young, he hadn’t been too jaded to appreciate things like natural wonders and sightseeing. Or rather, Mako Rutledge hadn’t been. That man and that life seemed centuries away from Roadhog now, someone and something long since dead and buried in the wasteland of his razed home. His whole being now was Roadhog, and as undeniable as it was, some days, he didn’t know how he felt about that.

 

“Oi, Roadie, ya listening?” Junkrat whined, jabbing two fingers into Roadhog’s stomach on the cheek of his pig tattoo and earning a growl in response.

 

“No,” Roadhog said plainly, “and don’t call me that.”

 

“Ya don’t like Roadie, mate? I think it fits ya nicely, ‘cuz you’re always following me around as we tour the outback—”

 

A glare silenced the Rat, perhaps all the more effective because of how rarely he saw Roadhog’s face without his mask (and really, he was the only one who  _ got _ to see him without it, not that he could tell the little shit that without it going to his head).

 

“Ok. ok, I got it, not Roadie. How about Hoggy? Ya like it when I call ya Hoggy?”

 

“I like it when your mouth is shut,” Roadhog grumbled, although he knew Junkrat well enough to know that he wouldn’t take it seriously. 

 

And sure enough, the Rat continued like he hadn’t even spoken. “I know Bacon’s no good, but maybe something along those lines. Pork Chop? Nah, doesn’t suit ya well. There’s gotta be something--hey, I got it!”

 

Roadhog let out a grunt when Junkrat climbed on top of him from the passenger’s seat, skinny legs straddling the much larger man’s lap in a way that the limited space of the car rendered decidedly awkward. A wild grin was on his face, and he looked proud as he announced, like it was a world-changing epiphany, “You're my Big Hot Ham.”

 

Roadhog was silent for a moment before, almost against his will, he started laughing. Once he started, he found he couldn’t quite stop—although the nickname was stupid, and he’d probably wring anyone else’s neck if they called him that. But Junkrat was different from other people in just about every conceivable way, and Roadhog consistently found that he didn’t dislike that much at all.

 

Junkrat’s face lit up at the laughter, even as it made him bounce and sway from where he was perched on the other man’s lap. “Perfect, ain’t it?”

 

“It’s annoying,” Roadhog finally said, but he was smiling, and he threw his beer can out the window to rest one hand on those skinny little hips and let the other pull the Rat down into a sloppy kiss. “Like you,” he muttered against his lips. “And if you call me that in front of anyone, ever, I’ll grind your skinny ass into oil for my chopper.”

 

Junkrat made a delighted little noise against him, one that Roadhog would sooner take a bullet than admit was extremely cute.

 

Mako Rutledge, his home, and his past were dead, and now there was only Roadhog, a brutal and remorseless killer. But with Junkrat, Roadhog was also something more—a protector, a partner in crime, and object of strange affection, no longer battling the wastelands alone—and he’s alright with that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% totally based off of this beautiful tumblr post by leslie-slithers:
> 
> https://mchighnoonwatch.tumblr.com/post/154275833767/how-to-refer-to-roadhog-properly


End file.
